


We stand together by the creek in my backyard

by ZoeMontrose



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Apocalypse, End of the World, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful themes, M/M, No Onscreen Deaths, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeMontrose/pseuds/ZoeMontrose
Summary: "You were my sure thing, Tyler."They get the news in the morning, that they have 24 hours left.  24 hours, that’s 8 full hockey games, overtime excluded, Tyler thinks nonsensically.
Relationships: Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75
Collections: Bennguin Quarantine Fest 2020





	We stand together by the creek in my backyard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [to_convey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_convey/gifts).



> Title from "Rural Boys Watch the Apocalypse" by Keaton St. James 
> 
> This ran away from me, I just had the urge and wrote it down.  
> Thanks and apologies to Alyssa, who's an amazing Beta but also, apparently, cries very easily. I'm sorry.

They get the news in the morning, that they have 24 hours left. 24 hours, that’s 8 full hockey games, overtime excluded, Tyler thinks nonsensically. He’s sitting on his couch, in an old shirt and threadbare boxers. I should have worn something nicer, he thinks, for the last day. 

Somewhere in his house his phone rings, once, twice, then cuts out. Telephone lines go down almost immediately, people trying to get into contact with their loved ones. 

He rinses his plate in the kitchen sink, puts it in the rack to dry. He’ll sort it away later. Distinctly, he remembers the team psychologist say something about adrenaline and shock and memory, but he can’t really remember. Wonders if he should have listened better, before. 

He’s alone. Marshall is with his parents in Toronto. He left him there after visiting at the end of the season, planning only a short stint back in Dallas. 

Huh, maybe it’s good this way. He’s even, a little bit, glad. It sounds horrible, yeah, and God, does he feel ashamed for it, but he’s glad he won’t have to make a choice. Not that God has anything left to do with the situation, he thinks, grabbing his phone and wallet from the bowl in the hallway. After a second of consideration, he puts them back down. No need for them, now, not with what’s to come. 

Tyler doesn’t call, doesn’t bother locking his house, just starts driving. He has to abandon his car two streets down, traffic so thick he can barely see the road. 

Last he had heard, Jordie is travelling somewhere in Europe with Jess. He hopes he’s happy, wherever he is. He hopes he gets to enjoy the last couple… their last… He hopes Jordie is enjoying it. 

Jamie’s house is pretty. Tyler had been able to see himself moving in there, once. They hadn’t ever talked about it, had danced around each other for years. He thought they had more time together to figure it out. 

Tyler laughs, dry, chokes on it. It sounds suspiciously close to a sob. Didn’t he always ask the universe for a sign? Well, it doesn’t really get more obvious than the world ending, does it? 

“You’ve got some fucked up humour up there. Man, you woulda fit right in with some down here!” 

He doesn’t need to knock. The door is unlocked and Jamie is waiting on the other side. Tyler takes that last step forward and buries himself in Jamie’s chest, breaths him in deeply. He doesn’t know who tugs on whom, who pushes where, only that they end up on the floor, right there, desperate. 

His throat burns and his vision in swimming and his chest aches, but under him Jamie lets out a sound so broken that Tyler figures it’s okay. They will be okay. 

They get up, eventually. They eat, because it’s still necessary, and because they are hockey players and creatures of habit and not even the world ending will be able to beat that out of them. Their ankles are hooked, delicate bones pressed together. Their sock colour matches. 

“They were planning on trading Dobby,” Jamie blurts out. “They told me yesterday.” 

Yesterday seems like an eternity away. Tyler doesn’t even remember what he did yesterday. 

“Where to?” 

“Ottawa.” Jamie frowns, pierces a strawberry on his fork and draws it along the rim of his plate. 

“Well, I guess the universe didn’t like that.” 

They swim in the pool until their skin is pruny, until Jamie stays underwater for so long Tyler has to dive down and pull him up. 

“Hey, we have today. You can do that tomorrow.” Jamie blinks the water out of his eyes, his ridiculously large brown eyes and smiles, bashful and sweet. 

“I guess I will.” 

Tyler smooths his thumb along the wrinkles building up in their corners. When had they started getting wrinkles? Jamie’s eyes flutter closed and Tyler wastes no time pressing soothing kisses on their lids. 

“Tomorrow, then.” 

They have sex, slow and sickly sweet, facing each other, in the late afternoon sun. Jamie’s skin tastes like sweat and chlorine, his muscles bunch and relax under his skin. At least Tyler can admit that he paid them their respect the way they deserve, if only this once. 

There were moments, in the locker room, after they had won a particularly well fought game, or had won against the St. Louis Blues in general, when Jamie still resonated with the power and grace of the ice, that Tyler had to sit on his hands and bite his lip to keep from touching, from drawing him in. 

Now he wonders why he never gave in. If he could go back, just to get some time back, he’d spend it all like this, waste it on Jamie’s chest and calves and spine. 

They cuddle up afterwards, overheated and gross, but they are both lazy and not even the impending doom can force Tyler to move. Instead, he cards his fingers through Jamie’s hair and counts himself lucky that he gets to feel it without the unholy amount of gel Jamie usually wears. 

“I always liked it best this way,” he admits against the fragile skin of Jamie’s collarbone. Tyler wants to bite there, bite and suck and leave his mark, if only for today. Instead he brushes a soft kiss against the skin right below. 

“I know,” Jamie murmurs, voice soft and far away. 

Tyler snorts. Of course Jamie knows. There’s very little they don’t know about each other, things they never spoke about. Now they’ll never speak about them at all. Tyler’s okay with that. He’s got more important things to do, like count the faint lines of stretch marks along Jamie’s thigh and brush a kiss against every single one, or taste the skin of his wrist and his ankle. 

They eat again, curled up in bed, Jamie throwing grapes for Tyler to catch and Tyler licking jam off Jamie’s lips. 

“Did you ever wonder how things would turn out for us?” 

Tyler leans more heavily against Jamie’s chest. The window is open, a soft evening breeze billowing the curtains. Somewhere down the block they can hear a man crying. 

The sunset is beautiful. The sun is huge and red, licking at the edges of the horizon like it will engulf the entire world in flames. Maybe that’s how it’ll end, Tyler wonders, pillowing his head against Jamie’s shoulder. That wouldn’t be so bad. It would be hot though. Not that he isn’t used to being around hot things. Tyler hiccups a laugh, the back of his eyes burning suspiciously. 

Jamie’s arm around his waist tightens, a heavy, reassuring weight around his middle. “I know.” He whispers into the empty space between his ribs, into the hollow feeling of his throat and the rabbeting tension of his thumping heart. “I know.” 

Tyler knows that Jamie knows. Knows that Jamie still has his phone charging, even though phone lines went down hours ago. Knows that Jamie has the volume turned up fully, knows that he’s listening for the familiar sound of Justin Bieber singing in dulce tones about his baby, baby, baby, oh. Jordie hates that song. 

“Did you? Ever wonder?” Jamie picks up the question, but ends it unfairly by pressing a dirty kiss to the back of Tyler’s neck. Tyler shudders, loses track of their conversation for a second. 

“Huh?” 

“Wonder, about us?” 

“Uh, no. Not really. I mean, I didn’t wonder. I knew it was gonna happen, you know? I imagined that house and those kids and shit. But I didn’t wonder. You were my one sure thing, Jamie.” 

“You were my one sure thing, too.” Tyler doesn’t mention the wetness running down his neck, only presses back more heavily. 

They watch the sunset until the last traces of blue leave the horizon and the air grows cold. Neither of them mentions how cold the air runs, a coldness completely unfamiliar to the stifling Dallas heat. 

Jamie untangles himself, stands, and Tyler follows suit, closing the window and tugging the curtain into place. When he turns around he catches the last traces of Jamie turning off his phone and stowing it, very gently, away in his bedside table, like he will switch it on in the morning and have a message from Jordie chirping him about his clothing choices. 

Tyler winds himself around his back, pulling him in with drowning hands and tugging until Jamie turns around. 

“I never really appreciated it, I think. But.. there are a lot of things I didn’t really appreciate.” Jamie says, nosing along Tyler’s neck, up into the fine hairs curling in his nap. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. 

“Yeah.” 

It’s very late. Tyler doesn’t know how late exactly, electricity cut out several hours prior and it’s dark. Jamie had fallen asleep some time ago, sprawled out on his stomach. 

Tyler can’t sleep and he doubts he will before it happens. He wonders if it will hurt. If angels really will be walking down the streets, with a thousand eyes and a thousand wings. 

He snorts. 

They’d fit right in here, among all those people with their thousand faces. 

Tyler shakes his head, shakes off his cynicism. He has more important things to focus on. He leans down, presses his lips to the first patch of warm skin he can find until Jamie stirs slightly. 

He’s got his very own angel right here and that’s all that matters, now. Until the end. 

Until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> It left me hollow but hopeful.
> 
> We'll all make it through this, and we'll be stronger for it.


End file.
